


shivering wreck that i adore

by orphan_account



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish is Bad at Feelings, Adam Parrish's 100 percent Great Ideas, Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Declan Lynch - Mentioned, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch Swears, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, noah's mustang being treated like a supporting character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “There’s one thing I can think of that will guarantee neither of them ever so much as mention either of our love lives ever again,” he begins. “We make them regret ever interfering in the first place. We make themwishwe were still boring and single.”Lynch is sitting up straight now, eyes alight with an intensity that almost makes Adam look away, it’s so bright. It’s obvious that he knows where Adam is going with this, but he asks anyway:“And how, exactly, do we do that?”Adam grins and spreads his hands. “We pretend to be the most obnoxiously infatuated, touchy-feely, disgustingly happy couple in the world.”“The most fucking obnoxious in the whole fucking world,” he says.“Precisely,” Adam agrees.Lynch bares his teeth in a grin, a predator at the top of the food chain.“Sounds right up my alley.”--Adam and Ronan pretend to date, and everything totally goes one-hundred-percent according to plan.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	shivering wreck that i adore

Henry’s newest candidate is just the same as the last fifty: A mostly run-of-the-mill personality with the potential to be somewhat interesting, but nevertheless entirely unsolicited and unwanted. 

At this point, Adam is starting to think that maybe the problem isn’t actually his lack of interest in anything having to do with romantic relationships, but rather Henry’s appalling taste in people. 

“...so, really, it wasn’t all that bad in the end. Anyway, what did you do?”

Adam blinks and refocuses his attention on the girl in front of him. She’s pretty, with wide green eyes and silky hair that reminds him of chocolate ganache. Her name is possibly either Darcy or Darlene, but Adam can’t quite remember. It probably means he’s a horrible person, but, to be honest, he just doesn’t care enough. 

He’s fairly certain it’s something that starts with _Dar_ , though. 

“I’m sorry, what were you talking about?” he asks. 

Adam smiles when he says it, and his tone is mild, but he’s careful to raise his eyebrows just slightly. Hopefully, Daria is perceptive enough to get the message and leave him be, because Adam can only hold onto his politeness for so long. 

Thankfully, she is, and she does, her smile thinning into something a lot less bubbly as she tells him, “Oh, nevermind. I actually just remembered that my friend wanted to ask me something earlier, so if you don’t mind…?”

“Of course not,” Adam says. He’s perfectly happy to continue with the charade. “I hope it’s nothing too serious?”

Darcy/Darlene/Daria shakes her head as she begins to turn away. “Probably not. See you later, I guess.”

Adam raises his red solo cup in her direction and nods, but she’s already slipping into the crowd and disappearing. Immediately, Henry sidles up to him. Adam is not surprised; the other man has a tendency to hover in the background during his orchestrated meet-cutes. 

“ _Well?_ ” Henry drawls, throwing an arm around Adam’s shoulders and craning his neck to try and follow the girl’s retreat. “What did you think? Because, personally, I think Arianna’s one of the oddest people in the world. Definitely one of the oddest I’ve ever met.”

Adam’s brain takes a brief second to wince at the name, and then his thoughts are jumping over to Henry’s praise of the girl.

From anyone else, _odd_ would most likely be either an insult or a half-assed attempt at veiling their disdain. It’s the very opposite coming from Henry, though, who likes to surround himself with people who have the strangest habits and pasts and interests. 

It’s the very reason he’s friends with Adam, who is far too self-aware to even begin denying his own brand of oddness. 

“I can’t really say,” he says after a while. “We didn’t talk for very long.”

Henry’s giddy expression drops. “You rejected the poor thing, didn’t you?”

“It was a mutually agreed upon rejection,” Adam assures him. 

“No rejection is mutually agreed upon. The very definition of a rejection makes it impossible,” Henry sighs, shaking his head. He wrinkles his nose and slants a glare over at Adam. “You couldn’t have at least given it a few more minutes? I just _know_ you would’ve liked her. And she was so excited to meet you, too!”

Adam does not allow any guilt to take root at that, focusing instead on the annoyance sparking in his gut. This would not be a problem if Henry would just listen to him and stop trying to play matchmaker. When he says as much, though, the response is no more accepting than the last however many times Adam has voiced his displeasure. 

“ _I_ wouldn’t need to if _you_ could be trusted to take some initiative every once in a while and put yourself out there without someone forcing you. But, alas, you can’t be, so it appears we are at an impasse.”

Adam’s fingers tighten on his cup. He reminds himself that Henry is just trying to help him in his own admittedly misguided way. He reminds himself that he _likes_ Henry, most of the time, when he’s not trying to puppeteer Adam’s love life. 

“I’m going to head home,” he says and sets the cup down on a nearby table. “I have a couple of assignments I want to get started on before turning in for the night.”

Henry shakes his head. “Fine, fine. Be that way. But know that I _will_ eventually find someone too perfect for you to turn down, no matter what you say now.”

Ignoring him, Adam stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and makes his way to the front door of the house. It’s more difficult getting out than it was getting in, too many people having crammed themselves into the different rooms between now and when he arrived, but Adam manages. Outside, the crisp night air is a welcome refreshment; he takes a moment to just breathe it in, closing his eyes and digging his heels into the asphalt to ground himself. 

When his chest no longer feels tight with anger and he’s not at risk of snapping any moment, Adam opens his eyes and begins the walk back to the apartment. 

There are computational biology notes in desperate need of being organized waiting for him there that are far more appealing than any of Henry’s potential dates. 

***

Late the next morning, Adam walks into the retro-diner he and Blue have been frequenting for almost two years for their weekly brunch meeting. It’s a tradition they carried with them from their days back in Henrietta, a piece of their past fused with their present that they originally kept because it helped Blue cope with the strain of being parted from her chaotic family and the only home she had ever known. Adam will never admit it, forever determined to keep the him of today separated from the him of Virginia, but it helped him, too. 

As usual, Blue is already seated with a mug of coffee in front of her, having come here from her usual Saturday morning yoga appointment at the nearby YMCA. She’s passing the time on her phone, likely answering emails about the fundraising event she’s organizing with the local chapter of the Sierra Club. 

“Hey,” Adam greets as he slides into the chair across from her.

Blue looks up from her phone and arches an eyebrow. “You look terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Adam winces. He planned to only go over the notes from computational bio the night before, but as always, one thing led to another, and when he next looked at the time in the corner of his laptop screen, it was already five in the morning. He could have tried for a couple hours of rest, but he didn’t want to screw up his sleep schedule.  
Instead, he continued working. 

“Yes,” he lies. 

Blue doesn’t contest him, just accepts his answer with an unbothered shrug. Adam supposes that after five years of friendship, she knows it’s pointless to openly argue with him about his study habits. Instead, she’ll continue with her passive-aggressive campaign of hiding the coffee grounds in their apartment and sending daily “good night” texts that are really just reminders for _him_ to hit the hay. 

“Okay,” she says. “We should order.”

Blue orders her vegan burrito. Adam orders his french toast, and a cup of black coffee to go with it. It’s a Saturday morning like any other.

That is, until Blue diverts the conversation away from their usual meaningless topics and towards Adam’s apparently oh-so-interesting dating life. 

“So,” she says, pointedly setting her mug of coffee down and looking him in the eyes. “I heard Henry made another failed attempt at that party he dragged you to last night.”

Adam snorts. “You shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the only reason he ever drags me to those things, after all.”

Blue throws him a disparaging look and takes another bite of her burrito. “Just listen, alright?”

Making a show of stuffing an overly large piece of egg-dipped toast into his mouth, Adam nods and motions with his fork for her to continue. 

“I _also_ heard that he’s already planning another attempt despite his most recent failure,” she tells him. “And before you say that that’s nothing out of the ordinary, you should know that I know this because he was on the phone with Gansey while I was over at his place.”

Blue gives him a pointed look; Adam swallows. 

“Excuse me?” he asks. 

If there is one thing that has the potential to be worse than Henry’s incessant attempts at “fixing” Adam’s love life, it would be Richard Gansey III getting involved in the effort to do so. Because where Henry’s choices in possible boyfriends/girlfriends are generally so ridiculous that Adam can brush them off by claiming incompatibility, Gansey’s selections will be entirely different. He’s too devoted a friend to just throw acquaintance after acquaintance at Adam and hope that quantity wins out over quality. 

No, _Gansey_ will spend hours handpicking and vetting the person who is patented Perfect-for-Adam-Parrish, and Adam will have no choice but to at least give them a chance. 

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath. 

Blue nods sagely. “Exactly.”

Adam groans. “I can’t tell him to stay out of it, Blue. Not after I’ve basically let Henry have free reign for a whole year. He’ll be crushed.”

“Don’t worry,” Blue says, and for a second Adam thinks she’s going to tell him that she’s already stepped in and handled it for him. Then, she adds, “It gets worse.”

“Worse,” he repeats. “How the hell can it get _worse_?”

“The reason the two of them are in cahoots is because they want to set you up with Gansey’s own pet project,” she tells him. “His and Noah’s other roommate. Ronan Lynch.”

Adam blinks. _Ronan Lynch_.

He rolls the name around in his mind, trying to remember everything he’s ever heard Gansey or Noah say about the third resident of their townhouse, an old building lovingly dubbed Monmouth after the truly hideous bust of Geoffrey of Monmouth Gansey insists on displaying in the entrance. Somehow, despite them running in the same circle of friends, Adam’s never actually met Ronan Lynch, but he finds he still has ample information to go on. 

He recalls Noah telling him that Lynch once threw him out of a window. Gansey’s said that he’s an ex-delinquent with a penchant for driving too fast and fighting too much, and a talent for Latin. Adam also thinks there was a time he was over at the townhouse and saw a pet raven in the kitchen that Noah claimed belonged to Lynch, but that also might have been a fever dream from when he had the stomach flu last winter. 

“What do you mean, his own pet project?” he asks after a minute. 

Blue’s answering smile is half amused, half exasperated. “Gansey likes introducing Ronan to potential boyfriends. Ronan likes terrorizing them.”

Adam grimaces. “Oh, joy.”

“Don’t worry,” Blue assures with a laugh. “I’ve let Ronan know about their diabolical plans, too, so he’ll be just as prepared as you whenever they spring the trap.”

It would probably be reassuring, if Adam could think of anything other than the fact that that means Lynch will have ample time beforehand to plan exactly how he’s going to terrorize Adam, but as it is all he can do is sigh and take a miserable bite of his french toast while he resigns himself to his fate. 

***

In the end, it takes such a long time for Gansey and Henry to put their plot into action that Adam’s nearly forgotten about it between classes and clubs and work. 

But when he walks into the living room of Monmouth and sees a tall man with a whorling tattoo twisting up his neck and over the tops of his shoulders standing next to Noah, Adam is suddenly all too aware of what is about to happen. 

“Adam!” Gansey exclaims, appearing from the kitchen. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Adam laughs and meets Gansey’s outstretched fist with his own knuckles. “You were just over at the apartment two days ago.”

Gansey waves a dismissive hand. “I was visiting Blue, not you. We really do need to get dinner sometime, just the two of us. You still haven’t had a chance to tell me more about that research internship you said you were applying for!” 

Again, Adam laughs as he offers Gansey an agreeing nod. “I’ll check and let you know when I’m off work this week.”

The brightness of Gansey’s smile increases by at least ten percent at that, and then he’s snapping his fingers like he’s only just remembered something. Adam has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly what it is. 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot, but there’s actually someone I wanted to introduce you to, Adam,” Gansey tells him. He grabs onto Adam’s arm, expectedly steering him in the direction of Noah and the man he’s now positive is Ronan Lynch. “I honestly can’t wrap my head around how you haven’t met already, to be honest. He just always happens to be out and about whenever you drop by.”

In one sudden, horrifying second, Adam realizes that it is a very real possibility that Lynch has heard just as much about _Adam_ as Adam has heard about _him_ , and that he’s long since made the decision Adam is someone he would like to avoid at all costs. 

It’s too late to back out, though; Noah and Lynch are suddenly directly in front of him, Noah with a crooked smile adorning his face and Lynch with a wickedly sharp smirk on his own. Adam does not think he wants to know what they’ve been discussing. 

“Adam!” Noah cries, much in the same way Gansey did just minutes before.

“Hey, Noah,” Adam returns. 

He doesn’t fight it when Noah’s hand comes up to pat his cheek. A couple years friendship with him has made Adam completely acclimated to his easy affection. 

Though, even if he wasn’t quite so used to Noah’s touchy nature, Adam thinks he would allow it, anyway. The older man has done too much for Adam, between offering up his wealth of personally acquired wisdom for surviving as an undergrad at MIT and introducing Adam (and subsequently Blue) to Gansey, who has since filled a hole in Adam’s life that he hadn’t even known was there. 

There’s also the fact that Noah is easily the most likeable person Adam has ever had the pleasure of knowing. He doesn’t think anyone could stand saying no to him. 

“Adam, this is Ronan, Ronan Lynch,” Gansey announces, bringing Adam back to reality. “Ronan, this is Adam Parrish.”

Lynch’s eyes rove over Adam. When he finally speaks, it is only to say, “ _You’re_ the maggot’s best buddy? Noah’s MIT prodigy?” 

And Adam decidedly does _not_ like anything about that: The tone, the choice of words, the implications.

It’s two insecurities being poked at at once. He’s never felt quite deserving of Blue and her love. Even though, logically, he knows that it isn’t the reason they broke up all those years ago, knows they were simply not right for one another and are much better off as best friends, it’s still a thought he clings onto in the very back of his mind: Blue Sargent is too big, too much, too good for someone like him, someone like Adam Parrish, someone who was born in the dirt and will always bear the dusty stain of it in his quick temper and starving ambition. She is much better with Gansey, who is equally too big, too much, too good. 

Adam still doesn’t feel quite deserving of his position at MIT, either. It doesn’t matter that he earned it and has it, he has to _keep_ earning it or it will be gone in the blink of an eye.

That’s the way it has always been with anything Adam has ever wanted, and it’s not about to change any time soon. 

But Lynch is not a mind-reader. He doesn’t know anything about Adam’s most intimate thoughts and insecurities. He can guess at them, maybe, but Adam will never, ever give him any proof that he has guessed correctly.

“Yes,” he says, and he immediately knows it’s too sharp. He mellows his tone, making it unconcerned. Unbothered. “Why?”

Lynch just shrugs. “Her other roommate is Henry. And Blue’s Blue. I thought you were going to be just as weird.”

The thing is, Lynch says _weird_ like Henry says _odd_ , and even though Adam spent his entire childhood and a good portion of the last couple years desperately wishing to be normal, he suddenly feels the need to defend his own strangeness. 

He knows the smile he gives Lynch is just as amused and self-assured as he hoped it would be, because Lynch’s own shark-like grin falters.

“Sorry to disappointment,” Adam tells him. 

Likely trying to save the budding romance that is already combusting before his very eyes, Gansey steps forward and rests a placating hand on Adam’s shoulder. 

“Ronan, take Adam and grab the extra case of drinks from the basement,” he instructs. “I think we’re starting to run low.”

Both Adam and Lynch eye Gansey. Before he really even realizes what they’re doing, they’re sharing a glance. Adam’s half of it very clearly asks, _Did he actually think we would fall for that?_ Lynch’s clearly says, _Fuck it, let him think he’s won._

Adam can’t help but agree. There are far worse things in the world than spending a night catering to Gansey’s sense of responsibility. 

“Sure thing, Dick,” Lynch says, obviously catching onto Adam’s compliance. “We’ll be right back.”

If Gansey looks surprised that they’ve fallen into his trap so easily, Adam doesn’t linger long enough to see. He follows Lynch as he weaves through the throng of people gathered in the living room, and then down the basement stairs. At the bottom, they both look up.

Right on cue, the lock clicks into place.

Adam shakes his head. “What would he have done if we just said no?”

“Who knows?” Lynch says with a shrug. 

He steps deeper into the basement, flicking the lightswitch to turn on the lights as he goes, and dust motes swirl around him in the artificial golden light like something out of one of Gansey’s Celtic fairy stories. Lynch looks the part, too, all pale skin and sharp edges and burning blue eyes. From this angle, watching him from behind, Adam can see a little bit more of the tattoo that climbs up the back of his neck from his back. He thinks there might be the edge of a wing there, right in the hollow spot where his spine meets his skull. 

It doesn’t look like Noah’s work, and Adam finds himself wondering how long ago he got it done. 

“Maybe this entire shitshow of a party is just a cover,” Lynch goes on, “and all the guests are part of his Plan B: Use brute force to shove us down here and pray for the best.”

Adam hums. “Henry’s contribution to the plan, I would assume.”

The edge of Lynch’s mouth curls up in a viciously amused smile as he lifts the lid off a crate in the corner. Inside is row after row of amber-colored beer bottles. Lynch grabs one and holds it out to Adam, who shakes his head. 

“I don’t drink,” he says. 

Lynch uses the edge of the crate to pop the top off the bottle. “Suit yourself.”

As he settles himself on the floor with his back against the wall, opposite where Lynch is sitting himself on what is very likely another crate of beer, Adam silently appreciates his lack of prying into his reasons for avoiding alcohol. He knows from experience that not everyone is quite so considerate, though he can admit to himself that it is probably less consideration and more a lack of interest when it comes to Lynch. 

“You aren’t actually normal, are you?” Lynch asks him.

The question comes seemingly out of nowhere. Adam just raises an eyebrow.

Lynch rolls his eyes dramatically and takes a swig from the beer bottle. “As if Gansey or Henry would be friends with you if you weren’t a grade-A crazy. Or Sargent, for that matter.”

For a moment, Adam considers staying silent and letting the other man make his own conclusions. In the end, though, that still-present need to defend himself before Ronan Lynch wins out and he says, “I practice tarot. And scrying, occasionally, but that requires a little...help.”

“Help,” Lynch repeats. “You mean drugs?”

“Yes,” Adam answers, honest and unashamed. There is no reason to be anything but. Though, he is a little surprised Lynch managed to catch on so quickly. Most people automatically assume _help_ just means he needs a scrying partner. Why, Adam doesn’t know. “Hence, only occasionally.”

This time, Adam’s fairly certain it is consideration on Lynch’s part that keeps him from pointing out the paradoxical nature of Adam’s easy admittance to drug use considering his earlier claim about not drinking. 

Instead, he just says, “Noah said you used to work in a garage.”

Adam remembers: _A penchant for driving too fast._

“I am not going to fix up your car to go any faster than it already does,” he tells Lynch, who’s eyes glint with something that could be either annoyance or amusement. Adam isn’t sure it matters which one it is; he doesn’t think Lynch’s response would differ one way or another. 

“Mistake,” Lynch informs him, brandishing his beer bottle like a judge’s gavel. “Now I know you _can_ fix it up.”

Adam huffs out a laugh. “Noted.”

Lynch taps the mouth of the beer bottle against the side of his shaved head, like he’s indicating the pure genius of his own mind. 

“Not that that changes the fact that I’m not gonna do it,” Adam adds. Then, “So, is Gansey as bad as Henry? Because, honestly, Henry is the human personification of Tinder.”

“No, Gansey’s Tinder. Cheng”--here, Lynch pauses dramatically--”is Grindr.”

Adam chokes on his next breath and has to pound himself on the chest to unfreeze his lungs. Lynch throws his head back against the wall and lets out a razor-edged bark of laughter at Adam’s suffering. 

“Oh, God,” Adam wheezes. 

“The truth demands to be spoken,” Lynch tells him. 

“I’ll never be able to look at him again,” he mourns. 

Lynch snorts. “In that case, you’re welcome.”

For a moment, the room falls silent, minus Adam’s labored breathing. Briefly, he wonders if telling Henry of Lynch’s comparison would be enough to finally put an end to this, and then--

“You know,” Adam says, “considering everything they’ve done for us, they really do deserve a little compensation, don’t you think?”

It’s not something any of Adam’s friends would agree to. Blue might agree that Henry is overstepping, but she’s also too entertained by the whole situation to do anything to help him put an end to it. Gansey wouldn’t, either, not when he’s been doing the exact same thing with Lynch, and Noah is too nice to be of any real use when it comes to something like this. 

Ronan Lynch, however...

“We could pretend I killed you,” he suggests. 

Adam shakes his head. “Not worth it. We’d end up having to console Gansey back from the brink of hysteria.”

“Nah,” Lynch says. He lifts the bottle to his lips again and takes a long, drawn out drink. “Blue would take care of that. Girlfriend, and all that.”

“Except then _I_ would have to deal with _her_ ,” Adam counters, “and her chewing me out for breaking her boyfriend.”

Lynch cocks his head to the side. “Not my problem.”

Adam smiles mildly. “I could _actually_ kill you.”

“Fuck you,” he returns, lazily flashing him a middle finger. Adam snorts and leans his head back against the cool stone of the basement wall. The ceiling is pebbled in that strange way hotel ceilings often are. 

It’s always reminded Adam less of popcorn and more of the gravel outside his parents’ doublewide. 

“No,” he says after a moment of staring. He slants a thoughtful glance over at Lynch and explains, “We need something lasting. Some way to torment them for at least a week, preferably longer if we can manage it.”

“What, did you have something in mind?” Lynch asks.

“Hear me out,” Adam implores. 

He shrugs, perfectly nonchalant, but Adam can read his interest in the slant of his dark brows and the middle finger tapping against the glass of his bottle. 

“There’s one thing I can think of that will guarantee neither of them ever so much as mention either of our love lives ever again,” he begins. “We make them regret ever interfering in the first place. We make them _wish_ we were still boring and single.”

Lynch is sitting up straight now, eyes alight with an intensity that almost makes Adam look away, it’s so bright. It’s obvious that he knows where Adam is going with this, but he asks anyway:

“And how, exactly, do we do that?”

Adam grins and spreads his hands. “We pretend to be the most obnoxiously infatuated, touchy-feely, disgustingly happy couple in the world.”

“The most fucking obnoxious in the whole fucking world,” he says. 

“Precisely,” Adam agrees.

Lynch bares his teeth in a grin, a predator at the top of the food chain.

“Sounds right up my alley.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I can write something that's only 5k. I can.  
> Me, a few days later, staring at the 14k word count of the still uncompleted fic: You fool. You absolute baboon. 
> 
> ANYway, I hope y'all enjoyed! I have a good chunk of this done already but i'm probably gonna space out uploading the next few bits because I've been struggling to finish it sooo... :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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